‘My goodness, that sounds delicious,’ Sonja said. ‘You’ve gone to so much trouble.’

‘It’s only right. It’s not every day your daughter comes home after a month in the hospital. And to wash it down, I thought we might have some…’ He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of champagne. ‘Ta-da!’

‘Oh, Fabian, you shouldn’t have. Not on my account.’

If not for the voice, he would have been sure that was Sonja. But odd as it may sound, the words came from Matilda.

‘No need to worry,’ he said, as he felt himself getting even more worried. ‘Of course there’s non-alcoholic bubbly for you and Theo. Also, you should feel free to call me Dad.’ He added another half-inch to his smile before turning to face her, only to be met by those eyes that seemed to be looking straight through him, making him ever more uncomfortable.

‘I’ve stopped drinking sugary drinks. I think I’m going to go upstairs and rest for a bit instead.’ Matilda turned and started walking towards the stairs.

‘No, okay, wait, hold on a second. Why?’ He put the bottle down and hurried after her, looking for a trace of his daughter somewhere deep inside. ‘Are you not feeling well?’

‘I’m fine, just a bit tired. But it’s okay. The real question is how you’re feeling.’

‘Me? I’m not sure I’m following… Do you understand any of this?’ He looked over at Sonja, who looked like she was miles away. ‘Sonja?’

Sonja jumped and turned to him. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.’

‘I’m talking about all of this. The champagne, the balloons, the music. All the food.’

‘Well, what’s wrong with it?’

‘It’s so incredibly over the top.’

‘Over the top? How can it be over the top? It’s for you. All of this is to celebrate that you’re finally—’

‘Fabian, I don’t know who you think you’re fooling. But this…’

‘Would you please stop calling me Fabian!’ He could feel something break inside him. ‘I’m still your father, you know, even though you seem to think that—’

‘Fabian.’ Sonja cut him off, putting a hand on his arm. ‘Try to listen to what she has to say instead.’

‘All right, fine, fine.’ He jerked his arm away from her hand, which was little more than a condescending pat on the head anyway. Listen? Who was she to talk about listening? ‘I just wanted to do something nice to show how happy I am that Matilda’s finally home again. But you know what. Forget it.’

‘Oh, Fabian…’ Sonja said in that same condescending tone.

‘No, I mean it. Let’s just forget it. If she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t want to.’ He grabbed the champagne and threw open the fridge so violently the things in the door fell over.